Betrayed
by Deanne Stevenson
Summary: Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner deal with personal demons, while Haley Hotchner may be the target of a serial killer. Rated M for language, sex and violence
1. Chapter 1

BETRAYED

Story takes place early in season 3.

Section Chief Strauss offered Hotch a job heading a white color crime unit. Haley Hotchner was delighted at the prospect of having a normal life with her husband and wanted him to leave the BAU for the new job. Aaron was reluctant and when he traveled with the team to solve a case, he came home to find that Haley had left him.***

Chapter 1

The only people in a tavern at eleven-thirty on a Tuesday night are hard-core drunks, and people who are too miserable to go home. Derek Morgan fell into the latter category.

He sat nursing a rum and coke, watching a hockey game on the television above the bar. The Capitals and somebody were playing. Tampa Bay? He didn't know. Hell, he didn't even like hockey. Although he was worn-out, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He couldn't get the Cincinnati case out of his mind. He would have enjoyed the escape of getting a little buzzed, but he had to work in the morning. He needed to be clear-headed when he talked to the Review Board. He wasn't really worried about meeting with the hierarchy. It was a formality whenever an agent fired a weapon, but it would hardly be good for his reputation to show up hung-over.

Morgan killed a man today. He pumped three bullets into Frank Durst. He didn't have a choice when Durst turned and fired on him. Shame he didn't run, Derek thought, angrily. He could have taken perverse pleasure in chasing the psycho bastard down and beating the hell out of him. Durst was one suspect he would like to have sent to jail. Prison has its own justice for perverts.

No one on the BAU team said much on the plane trip back from Ohio. They were all shaken by the case. It was always hard when the victims were children, but Kayla Ryan's death was particularly bad. When they found the child, she was still warm. She had a faint pulse. Hotch tried, desperately, to breathe life back into the little girl. He gave her CPR long after the rest of the agents realized it was hopeless. When the paramedics arrived and did their assessment, they just shook their heads. "If she'd been found a few minutes sooner," he heard one of them say.

Morgan had never seen Aaron Hotchner come so close to losing it. His normally stoic supervisor was teary eyed when they pronounced Kayla dead. Morgan figured he was so affected because the child was near in age to his son, Jack.

Derek was concerned about Hotch. Ever since he had come home from a case and found his wife and son gone, Aaron was edgy and distant. Hotch wasn't a person who confided his feelings to anyone. Even his admission to Morgan that his wife had left him was more than he shared with most people. Damn, he didn't want to go home tonight? How the hell could Hotch face it? Haley and Jack had always been his solace from the job.

The Capitals scored a goal, and the patrons in the lounge cheered. He glanced around at the people in the inn. There were several fraternity boys drinking beer and playing pool. A couple of seedy looking men sat at the bar. Both were alone and looked like regulars. A pudgy, middle aged woman in garish dress and makeup sat at the bar cracking dirty jokes with the bartender. She laughed too loudly and was obviously tipsy. Morgan studied her with his profiler's eye. She was probably attractive once, before booze took its toll on her. He wondered what unhappiness brought her to this point in life.

At the back of the pub, a couple sat at a table near the wall. The woman was blond and well-dressed. The man was bald, or shaved his head. He had a thick moustache. Derek couldn't see them clearly in the dim light. Two people having an affair, his instincts told him. They didn't want to be seen.

Morgan finished his drink and ordered another, the second of the two drink limit he had set for himself. He stared up at the television but didn't see the game. He saw Kayla.

During the investigation, he'd looked at so many pictures of the girl, playing with her dolls, running with her puppy, and splashing in the pool with her older brother, but the image he couldn't shake was of the child lying on the trash strewn floor of an abandoned house, a cord tied tightly around her neck. She was naked from the waist down. Her legs and genital area were bruised and bloody.

How fucking sick do you have to be to rape a four year old? Rage welled in him at the thought. "DAMN," he said aloud. The other people in the bar thought he was reacting to the goal missed by the home team.

Derek checked his watch. It was nearly eleven. He sipped his drink, wondering if he was tired enough to sleep. Occasionally, when a case was particularly painful, he was troubled by nightmares. Early in his career, Gideon helped him through his dreams. The man had faced monsters like Durst for thirty years, but eventually, even Gideon burned out and had to quit. Could he last as long? He didn't know. Sometimes, it was so damned hard.

Elevated voices coming from the back of the room interrupted his thoughts. The couple at the table was arguing. "No…Just leave me alone," he heard the woman say.

Morgan looked at them. There was something vaguely familiar about the woman. The man stood up, holding her by the wrist, as if to pull her out of her chair. "C'mon," he said, gruffly.

"Let go! You're hurting me," she pleaded.

"Look, bitch…" The man grabbed the woman's other arm and hauled her to her feet. "Let's go." He turned to lead the woman out of the tavern, and came face to face with Derek Morgan.

Athletically built, Morgan could appear very menacing. "Take your hands off the lady," he said, harshly.

The man studied Morgan for a moment. Intimidated by Derek's imposing presence, the man complied without protest. "Uh, hey, man, I don't want no trouble." He glanced at the girl. "Sorry," he mumbled, but there was a look of sheer hatred on his face. He quickly headed toward the exit. He shot a fast glace over his shoulder and saw that Morgan watching him, stone-faced.

"Are you alright?" Derek asked her. She was visibly shaking.

"Y-Yes, thank you, Derek," her voice quivering. It was then that he recognized her.

"What are you doing here?"

xxxxx

Aaron Hotchner's car was one of the last in the parking garage. On his way to the elevator, he had passed Daisy, one of the women who cleaned the floor where the Behavioral Analysis Unit had their offices. She gave a startled jump when she saw him.

"Y'all still here, sir?" She questioned in a deep, Southern accent. "Goodness gracious, I thought everybody had done hot-footed it out of here hours ago." She was vacuuming near Morgan's desk in the bullpen.

"Daisy," Aaron gave her a polite nod of greeting as he passed. He was never one for making small talk, and certainly not inclined to give explanations for his behavior to anyone. Truth be known, he hated going home to an empty house, and since Haley had left, he postponed leaving the office as long as possible.

He'd called Haley earlier to say "good-night" to his son. Jessica said her sister was "out for the evening" and put little Jack on the phone. He'd suspected for awhile that she was cheating on him, but he didn't want to speculate on where she might be tonight. His son's voice was especially sweet, after the awful child abduction case they'd been working on. "I love you, Da-ee," he said signing off.

There was a terrible pain in the pit of his stomach when he replied. "Love you, too, Sport."

He passed several eateries on his route home. He thought about stopping for a bite to eat. He hadn't had anything since…shit, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a meal, but he didn't have the appetite. A couple of his co-workers commented recently that he looked like he had lost weight.

Aaron's elegant DC home always seemed warn and inviting when he'd pulled into the driveway, knowing Haley and Jack were waiting for him. Tonight, it appeared cold and dark. Letting himself in through the back door, he flicked on the light, and put down his briefcase. He knew he had to eat something, and sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal. There was a floppy-eared animal on the box. Jack loved the cereal but it tasted like cardboard to Aaron.

He took a couple of ibuprofen for the headache he'd been fighting all day, and went up to bed. He undressed, quickly, and got into the king-sized bed that seemed way too large for one person. Gratefully, he escaped into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

BETRAYED

Chapter 2

She looked different from the last time he'd seen her. Instead of the long, strawberry blond hair she'd always worn, her hair was shorter, and a pale shade of blond. She looked stunning in the chic black dress and sateen Prada pumps she was wearing. "Sit down," he told her, firmly. He retrieved his drink from the bar and sat down across from her. He asked again. "Haley, what are you doing here?"

Embarrassed, she couldn't look at him. "I wanted to get out of the house," she said, defensively. "I haven't been anywhere since…since I, uh…"

"Since you left Hotch?" He cut her off. "Who was the guy?" He asked, curtly.

"His name is Scott. We've been talking on the internet for a couple of weeks, but I only met him tonight."

Morgan was already on edge from the events earlier today and he wasn't in the best of moods. He had the impulse to shout, "Are you out of your fucking mind?" But, this was his boss's wife. As patiently as he could manage, he asked, "Haley, what were you thinking?"

She stared down at the table, miserably, and simply shook her head.

He took her chin and tilted her face to look at him. "Do you know what might have happened if I hadn't been here?" Her green eyes looked glassy. "Where did he want you to go?"

"He said he wanted to go for a drive. I didn't want to be alone with him until I got to know him better. I mean, that's why I met him here, but then he got so nasty when I wouldn't go."

She felt so foolish, and Derek looked angry. Ashamed, she again turned from his gaze. "Could j'ue pleas jus' take me home? I don' think I shud drive." She had begun to slur her words.

"Whenever you're ready." He finished his drink and stood up. Haley got to her feet. She swayed, suddenly feeling very woozy, and Morgan put his arm around her to steady her as they walked. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Umm, I had some Whi' Rushins."

"Some?"

"I dunno…shum." She was having trouble forming words.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. Whenever she'd accompanied Hotch to FBI functions, Haley only had a cocktail or two. He doubted that she was used to drinking anything as strong as White Russians. It crossed his mind, too, that the man might have slipped something in her drink.

He tucked her purse under his arm, and kept his other arm around her as he led her out to his car. When they reached his SUV, Derek helped her into the passenger's seat and buckled her in. Her head lolled back against the headrest and she was asleep before he even got to the other side. She was so out of it, even for a few strong drinks, it convinced him that, indeed, she must have been drugged. He felt the pulse in her neck. It was steady, and her breathing was regular. Okay, good, she's not in distress, he determined. She should be okay once she sleeps it off.

Hotch had mentioned that Haley was staying with her sister. What the hell was her name? Jennifer? No, no…it was Jessica…something. He'd met her couple of times. Hotch hosted a barbeque at his home last summer and invited people from the Bureau. Derek met the sister then, even talked with her for a few minutes. He thought she'd told him that she lived in Dumfries, but he wasn't sure.

Well, hell, calling Hotch is sure out of the question, he thought, disgusted. Morgan wasn't about to twist a knife into the man and let him know that his wife was running on him. He already had enough on his plate. Hoping to get the address, he tried to awaken Haley.

"Haley," he said, shaking her. Her head was tilted back and she was snoring. "Haley! I have to get you home."

"Umm…" She stirred, slightly.

"Where's Jessica live? I need the address. Haley!" He shook her again, but the only response was another grunt. Realizing it was hopeless, he checked her purse and found her cell phone. Scrolling through the numbers, he located a "Jessica." He dialed the number but it went to voice mail. Damn! Okay, he decided. He would take her to his place and let her sleep. When she sobers up, he'd bring her back to get her car.

He sent a text to Jessica. "Everything's fine. Be home tomorrow."

It was a ten minute drive from the bar to Morgan's house in Stafford, and Haley never stirred. After he pulled into his driveway, Derek aroused her as best he could to get her out of the car. The chilly, night air helped. She half opened her eyes. "Am I home?" She spoke, thickly.

"My house." He got her to her feet but she couldn't walk. He picked her up and carried her into the house.

"I c-can't …" She trailed off. She was sleeping again by the time he laid her on the bed in his guest room. He slipped off her shoes and covered her. He left a small light on and went to his room.

Derek was exhausted but there was too much on his mind to sleep, not the least of which was his supervisor's wife passed out in his guestroom. It was quarter past one. He had to get some rest before he talked to the board.

Following his arrest in Chicago, and what he uncomfortably called that 'abuse thing' resurfaced, he suffered a bout of PTSD. After several weeks of nightmares and sleeplessness, he saw a psychiatrist. While he was in therapy, the doctor had given him a prescription for Sonata for help when he couldn't sleep. He hadn't used any in awhile and had almost forgotten he had them. After he brushed his teeth, he swallowed a capsule with a glass of water, and went to bed.

Clicking on the television, he saw that CNN was reporting on the Frank Durst case. The last thing he wanted to hear was more about that psycho bastard, and he quickly switched to FOX. Ah, lovely Megan, as he liked to think of her, was doing a report on the economy. She was a gorgeous blond with blue eyes and a dazzling smile. He'd heard she was an attorney before she became a news anchor. Beautiful and brainy! The perfect woman, he thought, with a slight smile. Her full, sensual lips glistened. Oh Megan, what I'd like to have you do with those lips, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

Instead of the nightmares he dreaded, he dreamed of Megan…Megan kissing him, exploring him…Megan touching him…Megan's beautiful mouth on him, exciting him until...in the most exquisite of dreams, he was inside of her, his passion exploding.

Morgan's clock began to beep at 7:15. He hated having to wake up. He was still dreaming of Megan. He reached over to turn off the alarm.

"Umm, morning," Haley murmured, softly.

xxxxx

Aaron Hotchner languished in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, enjoying the moments before he remembered what he so desperately wanted to forget. He could almost smell the coffee brewing and hear the voice of his little boy chatting with "mommy," as she prepared his breakfast. When the incessant buzz of his alarm clock finally snapped him back to actuality, he began his morning. With the discipline of a soldier committed to duty, he showered, shaved and dressed for the office. He left the house at exactly 7:45, just as he did every workday morning. He placed his black leather briefcase on the seat beside him, and started his BMW. The pricy valise had been a gift from Jack and Haley for his birthday. "Mom-ee help me pick it, Da-ee." Jack told his father, as Aaron unwrapped the colorfully decorated present. When Aaron commented on the bright Big Bird wrapping paper, Haley told him, "Jack picked out the gift wrap, too," and the boy beamed, proudly.

As he pulled into the parking garage at the FBI complex, his stomach growled loudly, and he realized he'd forgotten to eat. He did that often lately. Heading into the elevator, he pushed the Up button. The doors opened onto the floor that housed the Behavioral Analysis Unit and at precisely 7:55 Hotchner made his way to his office. He walked past the kitchette where Garcia and Prentiss were standing, drinking coffee from mugs with an FBI logo on them. "Morning," he nodded, as he passed.

"Good-morning." they responded in unison, glancing wordlessly at each other. There was no need to say anything. Both women were deeply concerned about the change in Aaron Hotchner since he'd lost everything that was precious to him.


	3. Chapter 3

BETRAYED

Chapter 3

In the quiet of his office, Aaron Hotchner opened his cell phone and clicked through the pictures of his son, pausing for a few moments on each. It was only ten o'clock but it was the third time he'd looked at them this morning. Many photos were new, taken yesterday when they went to the zoo. He smiled as he recalled how much Jack loved the pandas, and wanted to take one home.

It was now nearly six weeks since Haley left, and his time with Jack had become increasingly precious. He and the boy had a grand weekend together, which was tarnished only by meeting with Haley on Saturday.

When Haley called him about lunch at a local café so they could chat, Aaron was elated. At last, she was willing to talk. He thought, perhaps, they could finally work things out. Instead, he was blindsided when she announced that she was filing for divorce.

As little Jack sat dipping his chicken nuggets one by one into a small container of barbeque sauce, Haley began. "I thought it was only fair to tell you in person, Aaron, rather than you simply being served with the papers." She spoke between bites of her salad. "There's no reason why we can't be civilized about this. I'm only going to be asking for what's fair."

Hotch wondered how she could eat at a time like this. There was such a lump in his throat, he could barely swallow. He was angry when he realized why she had wanted to meet in public. She knew he wouldn't argue with her in front of their son.

"We can have shared custody of Jack but I will remain the custodial parent. You can have liberal visitation, though. I'll let you see him as much as your busy schedule allows." She said the words "busy schedule," venomously, since his traveling with the BAU had been a big factor in their breakup.

"I come see you, Da-ee." Jack repeated, happily, as he sipped some of his juice, not understanding the implications of what his mother was saying.

Aaron was practiced in concealing his emotions, and he hid his pain from his wife. His pride would never allow her see how devastated he was by this conversation, and he coldly replied. "I'll have my attorney review the paperwork. I won't fight you."

Aaron closed his phone with a sigh, and headed into the conference room for the morning briefing. The team was already assembled at the round table, engaged in the usual Monday morning banter about what they had done over the weekend. "G'morning," he mumbled to no one in particular. "JJ, what do you have for us this morning?" He said, turning his attention to work.

There were four cases they examined in the meeting. Three of the cases would be studied further and profiles faxed to the various police departments to assist in their searches. In a local case, the Chief of Police had formally requested BAU assistance with the investigation. Virginia State Police were working on a serial rape and murder case. Seven women had been killed in the past nine months.

As Morgan listened intently to the details of this case, a chill went up his spine. The victims all appeared to have been solicited on the internet. Witnesses, who had seen one of the victims prior to her abduction, were able to describe a possible unsub. He was a white male, mid-thirties, with a shaved head, and a dark moustache and goatee. He was described as ruggedly handsome, muscular, and blue collar in appearance, possibly a mechanic or laborer. The victim, Colleen Miller, was spotted getting into a white, late model Ford pickup with him. A few hours later, her body was found along a rural highway. Autopsy reports on the victims, including Colleen, said they had died from multiple stab wounds to the torso and genital area. Each had traces of a date rape drug in their systems, specifically, GHB.

My God! It sounded like it could have the man with Haley in the tavern a couple of weeks ago. Derek never saw what the guy was driving, but maybe Haley had. He tried to remember everything she had said about him. They had met on the internet…What did she call him? Scott! She called him Scott. What else...Damn, he had to talk with Haley. If there was any chance the unsub was the man with Haley, she could know a great deal that could help the investigation.

Talk to Haley! Wait a minute! How the hell could he involve her in the investigation? He thought, as he realized the absurdity of his situation. "Uh, Hotch, I think we need to talk to your wife. I saw her in a bar with some guy who may be our unsub. I scared him off when he started getting rough with her. She was a really drunk; so I took her home with me. Oh, and by the way, when I woke up the next morning, she was in my bed."

Another disquieting thought struck him. If the man was the person their unsub, and Haley could identify him, she might be in grave danger. He wondered if the man knew where she was living. He had to talk with Hotch, but he decided to wait until after lunch. He needed to think about what he was going to say.

zzzzz

Sitting in a quiet corner of Quantico's Command Post Tavern, Morgan told his story to Spencer Reid, who couldn't help blurting out, incredulously. "Morgan, how the heck do you 'accidentally' sleep with the boss's wife?"

"I told you." Morgan repeated, uncomfortably. "I took a sleeping pill. It was right after that Durst case that was so bad and I couldn't sleep. I'd had a couple of drinks, and I didn't realize how hard it was going to hit me."

"So you slept with Haley?" Reid asked, suppressing a smile. He tried to keep his voice impassive when he asked. "Did you...uh, do it?"

"Maybe…I don't know." Morgan squirmed in his seat. "Probably, yeah."

Reid took a drink of his coke before he took a little jab. "Didn't you ask her? You know, 'Haley how was I? Did you enjoy it? Was it as good for you as it was for me?'" He hid another smile when he asked, "Or, you could just have asked 'what are you doing in my bed?'"

"Damn it, Reid!" Morgan's angst had turned to anger. "I didn't ask you to have lunch with me just so you give me a lot of snarky, smart-assed bullshit. This is serious."

"I know. I'm sorry," and he really was. It was just that he had been the victim of his co-worker's teasing for so long, he couldn't help but enjoy his dilemma, just a little bit. "Look, the first thing you've got to do is set up security for Haley and Jack. If her 'date' was the psycho we're looking for…"

Morgan interrupted. "I already called the state and local police. They know Haley is a possible witness and they've added patrols around her sister's house. Shit, Reid! Give me some credit. I did that five minutes after I made the connection between our unsub and Haley. It's Hotch that's the problem. I have to tell him his wife was cheating on him, and why the hell I never told him what happened."

"Morgan, except for you feeling guilty, I don't see the problem. Her running on him is a problem between them. Just tell Hotch the truth, and admit that you were trying to spare his feelings. It's that simple. You don't have to tell him that little detail…about her ending up in your bed." He slurped some more coke through a flexi-straw, and inquired. "Did she happen to say how she ended up in your bed?"

"She said she was coming back from the bathroom and made a…" Derek cleared his throat before said it, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. "…made a wrong turn." He couldn't look Reid in the eye.

In spite of himself, Spencer Reid burst out laughing.

Forty minutes later, Morgan knocked nervously on the frame of the open door to his supervisor's office.

"Uh, Hotch? I need to talk to you."


	4. Chapter 4

BETRAYED

Chapter 4

Nothing in Aaron Hotchner's stoic demeanor reflected the silent panic he felt as he listened to Morgan. His family was slipping away and he felt powerless to stop it. He had suspected for months that Haley was cheating on him. It didn't take a profiler to pick up on the clues. There were long calls on her cell bill to numbers that he didn't recognize, and frequent hang-ups whenever he would answer the house phone. When he came home from work, she would be on the internet, only to quickly log off when he walked into the room. My God, Haley, he thought, miserably, so now you're meeting strange men in bars? How could you? Even if I don't matter to you, how could you do this to our son?

As Morgan's story progressed, he became increasingly alarmed. Everything Derek was telling him sounded like the man with Haley was strong suspect in their case. And then, the realization! Suppose the unsub knew where Haley was living? She and Jack could be in mortal jeopardy. "Morgan, we need to set up security…"

"It's already done."

In spite of the angst he was feeling, Hotch smiled, ever so slightly. He should have known he could trust Morgan. "Good. I'll call Haley. Take Reid. Go over and talk to her. See what she knows. Don't alarm her unduly but let her know that she needs to be on guard." He reached for his desk phone to make the call. "I gather you already have the address."

"Garcia found it for me. Queen's Court in Dumfries." Morgan hesitated. "Uh, Hotch, maybe you could send someone else? I'm working on a profile for the Illinois State Police…the car bombings in Peoria. I, uh, promised to get it faxed out to them this afternoon."

Impressed with Morgan's competence only a moment ago, Hotch scowled, clearly annoyed. Why was Derek trying to weasel out of the assignment? He studied the younger agent, and his instincts told him there was something Morgan wasn't telling him.

"Peoria can wait," he said, curtly, pushing his wife's number on speed dial. "You're the best person to interview her since you've actually encountered the suspect." Haley's phone began to ring. "And, confiscate her hard drive…laptop, too… whatever she's used to communicate with this guy. Maybe Garcia can track him through the IP address." His wife answered on the forth ring.

"Right." Morgan said, standing up. God damn, he didn't want to do this. He hadn't talked to Haley since he dropped her off at O'Reilly's to get her car on their infamous 'morning after.'

"Thanks for you help, Derek." She'd told him as simply as if he'd helped her carry in a bag of groceries. Maybe it was just a damn dream. If only it was, he thought, sourly, as he approached Reid's desk, knowing his feelings had been far too intense for it to have been a fantasy.

"Yes," Haley said to Aaron, icily. She must have checked the Caller ID.

Hotch spoke to her matter-of-factly. He didn't comment on her transgression, but simply said that Morgan and Reid were on their way over to talk with her about the man she'd met in the bar. "He's a suspect in the case we're working on," he said, emotionless. "They'll need to take your computer, too. We may be able use it to trace him."

She replied, quietly, "okay." He thought he detected a hint of shame in her voice.

"Could you put Jack on the phone?" He asked his wife.

"He's not here. Jessica took him down to the park."

Unconsciously, he emitted a small sigh of disappointment. "Just as well," he conceded. "It would be better for him not to be there when you talk with my agents. I'll call tonight."

He hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes. He was beat, physically and mentally. He hadn't been sleeping well. He went out to the kitchenette and poured a cup of coffee. Reid and Morgan were just stepping into the elevator.

Back at his desk, he sipped his coffee. It tasted like mud, but at least it would keep him awake. He picked up his cell phone and began to flip once more through the pictures of his son.

zzzzz

Haley closed the door behind Morgan and Reid, and bolted it, relieved that the interview was over. It hadn't been as awkward talking with Derek as she was afraid it might be. His professional behavior put her at ease. Besides, she'd never meant for anything to happen between them. She was just so drunk that night, and so damned lonely. It felt good to sleep with a man beside her. When she pleasured him, she didn't even realize it was Derek. She thought she was in bed with her husband until the alarm went off. Hopefully, they could both forget it ever happened.

Damn, damn, damn you, Aaron! Why do you have to be so pig-headed? If Jack and I meant half as much to you as your stinking job, nothing would ever have happened between me and Derek, or with any other man. All I've ever wanted was a nice, normal life with you. Being a superhero was one thing before we had Jack. I was supportive for a long time, but now it's time to settle down. Why can't you see that?

She was fuming when went into the kitchen to brew a cup of tea, trying to calm down. While sitting at the table sipping her drink, she began to shake, as the horror suddenly hit her. My God! Scott could be a serial killer? I could have been murdered that night if Morgan hadn't been there. She remembered what he and Reid told about the women being stabbed and dumped, and a wave of emotion swept over her. She couldn't control the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She wept until all of the emotion was out of her, and then went to the sink to wash her face with cool water. By the time Jessica and Jack came in the back door, she'd regained her composure and managed a smile.

Her voice was a little raspy when she asked. "Hi, Honey. Did you have a good time?"

Jack nodded happily, as he let his mother help him pull off his sweatshirt. "An' Jess-ca push da swing, Mom-ee…real high." He gestured with his small hands.

"Put this away for Mommy, and wash your hands. I'm going to make your lunch." She told him, handing him the shirt.

When Jack was out of the room, she looked, urgently, at her sister. "Jess, we have to talk."

xxxxx

"Leave it alone, Reid," Morgan said, angrily, as he put the car in gear and backed out of Jessica's driveway.

"I'm just saying…I'm glad she was able keep her hands off you."

Morgan was so pissed, but in spite of himself, Spencer relished another opportunity to needle his partner. After the years of teasing he'd taken from Morgan about everything from his lack of gun skills to his social ineptness, and what Morgan referred to as his "pathetic body," he couldn't help himself.

They had talked with Haley for almost an hour. After the first few minutes, Morgan relaxed and put his guilt in its place. He conducted the interview as he would any other. They had several pages of notes on Haley's interaction with the unsub, and she turned over her hard drive for examination.

He was relieved to learn that Haley had never told the suspect where she lived. Scott's only communication with her had been on the internet and one phone call early on the evening they met. Garcia was already checking phone records, and with the computer, he hoped they could solve the case fairly fast.

"I guess she was too drunk to remember what she did with you." Reid continued, trying to sound serious.

"Y'know, Reid. Drop it! I know it's a big, fucking joke to you. Do you know how shitty I feel about what happened? Do you really think I would do anything to hurt Hotch?" Derek's tone was pleading. "I don't want to hear anymore about it…PLEASE!"

"I'm sorry." Reid was almost sincere.

They were so preoccupied with their banter, that they never noticed the late model white pickup truck parked down the side street. A bald man with a well-trimmed goatee and steely blue eyes, watched as they pulled out of the development.


	5. Chapter 5

WARNING ~ This chapter contains violent, sexual, adult and racist language. ~

BETRAYED

Chapter 5

Michael Scott Chandler was breathing hard, as if he was running a race. His hand moved frantically up and down."Bitch…bitch…bitch," he growled, through clenched teeth. Visions of Colleen Miller flashed through his mind, as he came closer to climax. He could almost feel her hot blood splattering on him, just as it had on the delicious night he killed her. Mental images of the knife penetrating her flesh, over and over again, heightened his arousal, and he began to ejaculate. "Fucking bitch…Dirty fucking bitch whore!"

He leaned back in his desk chair and let the waves of ecstasy sweep over him. Hot semen dripped down his hand.

"I love you, Colleen," he whispered, breathlessly. "Love you." He wiped the sticky fluid from his hand with the rose pink shirt he'd ripped from her body that night. It mixed with Colleen's dried blood, and the semen from other nights when he'd masturbated to her memory. He placed the soiled shirt in the bottom drawer of his desk with the souvenir pieces of clothing from his other victims. There was a metallic "click," as he locked it shut.

"Htlvrscott," one of the names he used online, logged onto the computer. He went to "," one of his favorite sites, and began to troll. He'd met two of his women on this site. He liked the blonds…like his ex-wife, Amanda, the filthy bitch whore…like Colleen…and like Haley.

He'd almost had that whore, Haley, except for the motherfucker in the tavern that night. Rage welled in him, as thought of his date with her and how Morgan ruined for him. Interfering black bastard! Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He'd like to take his uppity black ass down a peg or two, and he would have, too, if there hadn't been people around.

Earlier today, he'd had an almost overwhelming urge to gun his truck and run him over when he saw Morgan at Haley's house. He'd been lurking nearby, just as he had for more than two weeks now, watching...waiting for the opportunity to corner her when she's alone. What the fuck's that coon doing there? He thought with disgust. Maybe Morgan's banging her? Maybe the bitch likes them big, black cocks. Then he saw the other guy, a pale, scrawny, young looking dude...with a gun on his waist? What the hell?

He slowly pulled out from the side street from where he'd been parked and drove past the house. He saw the government tags on their SUV. Cops? Could they be fucking cops? God damn, he didn't know which he hated more, blacks or cops. Well, he'd get that useless fuck from the bar. He's a big guy. He could put up a fight, but if he caught him off guard…from behind…Scott sneered, thinking of it. He imagined himself lying in wait for Morgan. He would do it when it was dark. He could come up behind him and plunge the knife deep into Morgan's back. The black bastard would never know what hit him.

The thought of killing aroused him again. He put his hand in his pants and began to fondle himself.

zzzzz

Morgan and Hotch were the last two people still working on the floor of the BAU offices, as Daisy emptied trash cans and vacuumed. She was glad the men were still there. Often, when she would clean their conference room, there would be grizzly photographs of crime scenes and victims tacked to the bulletin board. It frightened her to see them, although she tried to divert her eyes as much as possible. This floor was a bit less disquieting when there were other people around.

"Evenin' Agent Morgan." She said to Derek with a smile, as she emptied his trash. There was just a hint of flirtation in her voice when she greeted him.

Looking up, he returned her smile and replied. "Hi, Daisy. Am I in your way?"

Damn, that man has the most beautiful smile, she thought. "Nah sir, but I'll be needin' to get under your desk when I run the sweeper."

"Just tell me when I have to move and I'll take a coffee break." He said, and returned to his work. Derek was on his computer, exploring the site where Haley connected with "Scott." He was using the name "blondie676." All of the victims of the "Internet Killer," the name their unsub had been given by the news media, were blond women in their early to mid-thirties. Morgan had created a fake profile for "blondie," similar to the online profiles they had found for some of Scott's victims. Hopefully, he would attract the killer's attention.

Aaron was in his office, reviewing the notes from Haley's interview and comparing the new information to the existing file. It chilled him to think how close she came to becoming a fatality. It was a struggle to keep his emotions from affecting his work. He was devastated to learn details of his wife's behavior. She'd had two affairs in the past year, which she freely admitted to Reid and Morgan. A very private man, it humiliated Hotch to have the state of his marriage known to his subordinates.

At seven-thirty Aaron took a break from his work, and dialed his sister-in-law's number. Haley should be getting Jack ready for bed. The phone rang four times before little Jack answered. "Hi, Da-ee." His son said, gleefully. They talked for a long while about what the boy had done that day, his trip to the park and a friend who had come over to play. They chatted until they heard Haley's voice.

"Your bath is ready, Jack. Say good-night to your father."

"Bye, Da-ee. I love you."

"Good-night, Son. I love you, too." With a heavy heart, Aaron returned to his work.


End file.
